The Singularity
by Jaythe
Summary: Artemis Fowl discovered the Fairy Folk when he was 12 years old. What made the Wizarding World think it even stood a chance at secrecy? From this point on, there is no turning back. The Singularity is here. HP/AF crossover.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** This is a Harry Potter/Artemis Fowl fanfiction. For convenience, I've messed with the timelines a bit—everything takes place in the year 2002 because I said so. This is AU after_ The Order of the Phoenix_ (for Harry) and after _The Lost Colony_ (for Artemis). I'll try to keep everyone in character and prevent Artemis from becoming a dreaded Gary Stu. Anyways, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** …to appease the lawyers, lest they come flocking to eagerly tear out my flesh, I suppose I should say that I do not own Harry Potter or Artemis Fowl. Sigh.

* * *

+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+  
**Prologue: Reflections  
**+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+

**Artemis Fowl's Journal, Disk III. Encrypted.****  
****June 12, 2002.**  
_  
__The world shall remember the name Artemis Fowl._

_It has been two years since I have begun to keep a—for lack of a better term—diary. Though I loathe the usage of that word because it conjures up disturbing images of teenage girls pining over unrequited crushes, I have endeavored to create a record of my thoughts and deeds for future Fowl generations._

_The world shall remember the name Artemis Fowl._

_Indeed. Two years ago, I was unquestionably brilliant and yet unadmittedly arrogant as well. Not that I had no right to be—even disregarding those escapades with the People, by the age of 13 I had already hacked into various heavily encrypted national security systems and transferred the funds from certain Swiss bank accounts into my own. (Thank you, Jon Spiro.)_

_Yet, it seems that without the _humanizing_ influence of the fairies after the mindwipe (oh, the sheer _irony _of that phrase), I had easily reverted to the personality of my youth—a disposition which I myself must admit leaves much to be desired. I suppose I was ruthless then, and saw the world and the people within it as tools to be implemented and manipulated to my will. I was the ringmaster, and the universe jumped through flaming hoops for my amusement._

_I have not lost my edge though, hardly. Fowls are not known for their sentimentality. It is just that I have come to appreciate the inherent power in the relationships that bind individuals together. I have found that trust can be just as effective as coercion, devotion an infinitely more powerful motivator than fear. I am not foolish. I can now see the subtleties in human (and fairy) nature that evaded me when I was young. It is an unpredictable, irrational system that our world is founded upon, but I am determined to understand it. If you can win the heart, then there will be no need to crush the mind._

_Of course, my complex reasonings have been completely misconstrued by Holly, who continues to grin _infuriatingly_ and insist that I am growing soft. I am merely choosing to participate in more legal ventures that I view as beneficial to humanity. What point is there to acquiring and hoarding wealth if I allow the world to simply nuke itself into a million radioactive pieces? Exactly._

_Actually, my "evolving" personality is another reason that I'm inclined to continue this diary. Though the fairies have promised to respect the sanctity of my mind, I cannot again risk losing all of my memories of the People.__ If by some circumstance I am mind-wiped again, I will degenerate back into the immorality of my early years__—_and by losing my conscience I will gain nothing but my father and mother's disappointment. Though I would never admit this to Foaly, the fairies have come to define who I am. I have my family today because of them. They have brought a strange warmth into my life—happiness, I suppose? Hope? Magic has made my dreams real.

_Perhaps I _am_ growing sentimental. However, I also find that saving the world from vain, psychopathic, truffle-obsessed pixies tends to put things in perspective. That, as well as rescuing an entire race of demons from extinction by utilizing energy from a bomb to dimensional-travel three years into the future. _

_Life is good and I would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts._

_I can hear Miles and Beckett, those twin terrors, running loose again. Beckett is being…simply Beckett. Without a doubt, however, Miles takes after me. From the sound of things, he has already persuaded (or cunningly coerced?) our father into installing a miniature laboratory in his room. I wouldn't be surprised if he figures out how to decode these diaries himself before he reaches puberty. It might prove somewhat of a challenge though, as the language in which this is encoded is not based on any known to man._

_Tomorrow morning I depart for a business venture in London. An associate of mine is expressing interest in a solar cell prototype that I have been developing in my free time. Its efficiency far surpasses that of any solar cell currently in existence, but there are still many more modifications that I plan to add later on._

_Though this venture is completely legitimate, Butler insists that I be accompanied by a suitable bodyguard. Butler himself, unfortunately, hasn't been in peak condition ever since the incident with Arno Blunt. He asks that I at least bring along Juliet with me tomorrow, in his place. I suppose that I will humor his over-protective streak, although I assured him that this will be no covert meeting in the seedy alleys of Ho Chi Minh City. __(Ah yes, Juliet has come back to Fowl Manor. Upon returning from her wrestling stint as "The Jade Princess", Juliet has actually re-acquired her memories of the fairies as well. Funnily enough, _her_ residual memories were triggered when she walked into the kitchen and smelled the...rather unique, shall we say, stench of Mulch. Not the most pleasant way to be reacquainted with the existence of fairies, in my opinion, although certainly effective.)._

_I doubt that anything remarkable will happen in London, however. Most things have settled down since I returned from Hybras five months ago, and I am inclined to believe that Fate, fickle though she is, owes me a few more months of peace anyways.__  
_

* * *

**A/N:** You might have noticed that Artemis's personality is more reminiscent of that in the earlier books—_The Eternity Code_, perhaps? However, this is because regardless of how much he changes, I believe that Artemis will never be quite as warm and outwardly affectionate as other boys his age. However, he definitely has learned some things and** will **continue to mature in the duration of this story.


	2. Where Parallel Lines Meet

**Disclaimer:** I feel an immense pressure to say something delightfully witty here, but…Um. Yeah. I don't own either Artemis Fowl or Harry Potter. Really.

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favs! I was really not expecting this story to receive that much recognition! (Not that I'm complaining, of course.) Anyways, this chapter is still more character analysis than plot, but I'm getting there!

* * *

+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+  
**Chapter 1: Where Parallel Lines Meet  
**+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+o+

* * *

**Singularity (n): **

1. the point at which parallel lines meet

2. the point at which a measurable variable becomes unmeasurable or infinite in value

3. the point beyond which nothing can be predicted or foreseen with accuracy

* * *

**Aboard the Fowl Learjet**

The dashboard hummed faintly. Casting a cursory glance downwards to check the autopilot's status, Juliet Butler heaved a sigh and leaned back from the array of glowing screens. _ So far, so good_. Butler would be gravely disappointed—no, scratch that, infuriated—if his baby sister were to somehow crash-land his Principal into the deepest depths of the Irish Sea.

Juliet suppressed a smirk. As if Artemis himself hadn't done far worse, what with his spontaneous dimension-jumping and strange penchant for attracting all things supernatural. Juliet often wondered just how much of her brother's newfound gray hair was actually caused by his cryogenically-induced aging.

But in truth, it was Artemis's attraction to danger (or danger's attraction to Artemis) that appealed so greatly to Juliet's flighty spirit. Though she had been denied the blue diamond tattoo because of this very aspect of her personality, Juliet could not quash her childlike love for adventure and action. Why else would she have chosen to become "The Jade Princess" instead of a professional bodyguard? Juliet could not imagine herself in the stuffy, impersonal relationship that standard bodyguard etiquette demanded. Nor could she stomach having to stand impassively by the side of some unctuous politician.

However, when one was by the side of a Fowl—in particular, a certain Artemis Fowl II—one's life could most certainly _not_ be boring. Juliet could feel, with an instinctive assuredness, that here, aboard the Fowl Learjet, she was part of something bigger. Here, at the side of Artemis Fowl II, she was where _it_ was—where every moment was a turning point and where every action forged a new future.

Juliet twirled her braided hair pensively, the surface of the trademark jade ring cool against her fingers. A beep from the plane's monitors drew her back to the controls and away from thoughts of a certain teenaged genius. A genius who, despite his claims of "going straight", was no doubt devising another unspeakably devious plot.

Juliet laughed.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Though it would've been undeniably characteristic of him, Artemis Fowl the Second was not plotting. He was, in fact, _pondering_.

Artemis gazed through the tinted glass of the windows, observing detachedly as below, the Irish Ocean merged into the English landmass. His calm expression was marred only by the distant yet calculative gleam in his eyes.

At the moment, three enigmas reigned supreme in Artemis's mind.

The first was that of his recently acquired magic. When he had embraced the blue sparks in the time stream and brought them into himself, he had not expected much to happen. At the very worst, he had expected his body to reject it in a kind of allergic reaction. At the most probable, he had expected the sparks to heal the various cuts and bruises on his body. Instead, Artemis had felt the magic somehow mesh with the core of his inner being—it had surged through his blood in a roiling mass, so much so that beneath his skin, Artemis could see the veins and arteries glowing an incandescent blue. The magic had filled him with an indescribable sense of connection, of power, of _awareness_. If he had been waxing poetic at the time, Artemis would have described the sensation as a union between his soul and the universe.

Fortunately, five months later, it seemed that any sentimental spirituality left over from _the experience_ had long since packed its bags and left his mind. Artemis suppressed a snort. Though he had taken to referring to the moment as _the experience_, the phrase made him sound suspiciously like one of those televangelists. Artemis couldn't deny that there had been something—dare he say it?—_sacred_ about his acquisition of magic, but the situation at hand needed to be examined with the sharply analytical mind of a scientist.

A sharp stab of guilt pierced his gut. He had lied to Holly about his magic. Should he have told her? Artemis considered the possibilities. Probably not, unless he wanted "covert" LEP officers swarming all over the grounds of Fowl Manor. Nor did he think it beneath Foaly to hide surveillance equipment in his bathroom.

It was for the best, he rationalized. There were fewer complications this way, fewer variables to disrupt any plans he had for the future. His conscience, however, managed to insinuate itself into his mind once more. _What plans for the future? Surely if they're _legal, _they won't be affected that deeply?_ Artemis groaned. Now it had Holly's voice. _And do you really have so little trust in me, Artemis? What makes you think I couldn't keep it a secret between us? After all we've been through?_

Artemis found himself staring at the fairy communicator ring. He wrenched his gaze from it, and encased his mind in several fortified layers of ice and steel.

According to his analyses, Artemis concluded that there was little difference between the magic he had acquired and that of the fairies. He had not attempted shielding because human physiology was not adapted to vibrating at high speeds—his bones were denser than a fairy's, and his heart weaker, so such an effort would either prove ineffective or fatal. After a series of other tests, however, Artemis had discovered that he could harness the power of the mesmer, in addition to rudimentary healing and the Gift of Tongues. For _that_ particular trial, Butler had consented to be the guinea pig, so to speak. Neither Artemis nor Butler was surprised that the mesmer required little change from Artemis's usual demeanor. The only alterations were that the infamous vampiric stare glowed an inhuman blue, and the commanding voice was overlaid with a series of unearthly tones.

The Gift of Tongues had been somewhat unexpected. Artemis found that not only could he comprehend all languages known to man, but he could also converse with animals. At least, the animals that could make themselves audible. Artemis did not think that he was going to have a lengthy conversation with a sea sponge any time in the near future.

Artemis's newfound multilingualism _did_ present a slight problem when it came to eating meat, however. Fortunately, this dilemma did not last long. Artemis found that the ability to express oneself did not necessarily ensure that one was sentient. For the majority of animals (luckily the more palatable ones), it seemed that their vocabulary was limited to _foodfoodfood_ and _matematematemate_ and _dangerdangerdanger_. It was a relief, really. Artemis had enough of a struggle with ethics when it came to people and fairies. The addition of pigs and cows would have been an incomprehensibly cruel blow. He would _not_ have appreciated the irony of a criminal-mastermind-turned-defender-of-livestock.

Artemis shuddered delicately, and instead brought the second enigma to the forefront of his mind. Humans and magic. When he had attained magic during _the experience_, he had felt as if a long-suppressed part of his mind had been unbound, unlocked, awakened. He held no doubts that humans had once possessed their own magic, and that it had been lost through the ages. But this raised an inevitable question: were there still humans with magic? After all, there was an advanced society of the Fair Folk living hundreds of miles within the earth's subterranean crust. Was it so implausible that a civilization of magic-wielding humans had endured the passage of time, and remained hidden still?

Artemis believed that all myths had some basis on truth. It seemed otherwise unlikely that civilizations on opposite ends of the globe would develop parallel stories. There was a correlation between certain folklore that could not be easily explained away. It was this reasoning that had led Artemis to search for fairies with such conviction, despite the fact that others would have dismissed the idea as a fantastical fancy. And what other tales were more prevalent than those of magic, of sorcerers, of magicians, of wizards? (Artemis also had a sneaking suspicion that dragons might be linked as well).

It certainly demanded a more thorough investigation. Which brought Artemis to enigma number three. His eyes. To be more precise, his left eye. _Holly's eye_. Though he had become habituated to the yellowed vision that it had granted him, Artemis found himself noticing strange things. Occasionally he would detect faint swirls of color in his peripheral vision, which would flash out of sight just as he blinked. Unremarkable people and objects would glow for no apparent reason; their outlines ever so slightly blurred by hazy shades of violet, scarlet, sapphire—every imaginable color in the rainbow, and then some. Strangely enough, he himself radiated an icy blue aura. It was pale but unmistakable. Butler and Juliet exuded no such color, nor did his parents. As for Myles and Beckett…Artemis wasn't quite sure. Beckett seemed to have some spontaneous outbursts of neon green, while Myles usually maintained a steady but subdued teal.

Since the colors often appeared more vivid when he closed his own eye, Artemis suspected that the fairy eye was allowing him to see wavelengths of light that human eyes could not detect. After all, if bees had evolved to see ultraviolet light, was it not plausible that fairy vision had developed differently as well? Artemis's first hypothesis was that fairies could see infrared light, but that had been quickly discarded. All living things emitted heat, so it did not make sense that only certain people were giving off a colored aura.

There was another hypothesis coalescing in the depths of Artemis's mind. Though he had not voiced it yet, it_ was_ a rather elegant unification of the three engimas that he had contemplated for the past five months.

With a fizz of static, the intercom came on and Juliet's voice bled through. "All passengers prepare for landing. I repeat, all passengers prepare for landing." There was a brief pause. "That would be you, Artemis."

Artemis gave a wry grin. The plane shuddered ever so slightly as it hit the tarmac of the runway. He had arrived.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

**Le Gavroche Restaurant, London**

"30 percent efficiency? Is that even possible?" The CEO of SynergeticSol was displaying the classic symptoms of shock. Wide eyes, gaping mouth—it was all there.

Artemis smirked. "I assure you, Mr. Elios, that my invention is entirely genuine. In fact, I have the utter confidence that given more time, I can raise my solar cell's efficiency to nearly 50%. What you see in front of you is, after all, a rough prototype, hardly polished at all."

Sergei Elios pinched his nose with a thumb and forefinger, and exhaled deeply. It was a lot to take in. Then he looked up. "Call me Sergei."

This time it was Artemis who was startled. He hesitated momentarily, and glanced at the girl standing silently in the corner. Juliet shot him a pointed look. He sighed internally, before responding. "Thank you, Sergei. You may refer to me as Artemis."

Sergei grinned. "You know, Artemis, for a moment there, I was incredibly jealous of you—a what, fifteen year old?"

"Eighteen—" Artemis interjected.

Sergei's eyebrows shot up, but he continued. "Eighteen year old, then. Do you realize the extent of your invention? Well…of course you do. My point is, your solar cell is absolutely brilliant. I won't lie. Before I founded SynergeticSol, I _did _do some alternative energy research myself, you know. I was proud for being the first to pioneer a solar cell with a greater than 5% energy conversion rate, but what you have here is simply revolutionary! Integrating silicon with artificial plant chloroplasts—it seems obvious to me now, but who would have thought? I mean, clearly, you did."

Artemis couldn't deny his growing sense of gratification. This Sergei, having been an actual engineer before becoming CEO, obviously understood the mechanisms behind his solar cell design. This was good. Artemis hated dealing with incompetent CEOs who could only comprehend money, but knew little of their own products. A certain Jon Spiro came to mind. In contrast, Sergei had both vision and knowledge, and it was for those very reasons that Artemis had arranged a meeting with him. "I take it you're interested?"

"You can't be serious. Am I interested? Hell, Artemis, this little solar cell could be _the future_. I'm smart enough to realize that you're the one giving me an opportunity here, not the other way around. My question is, why even collaborate with me? I'm most definitely not asking you to change your mind, but what do you stand to gain here? Why join up with SynergeticSol when you could have founded Fowl Industries or something similar?"

Artemis laughed. "Not the most astute question to ask, is it? Aren't businessmen supposed to take whatever they can get, without questioning the motivations?"

Sergei smirked. "Well, clearly, I'm not cut out for business then. I define myself as an engineer, however, so I tend to be more direct."

"I have other obligations at the moment, but I would like to get this technology out as soon as possible. You've seen the data on the level of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, have you not?"

"Of course."

"Well, let's just say that my…conscience...so to speak, has motivated me in this particular enterprise. I will not say that I am not looking for a profit, because I am. However, current environmental circumstances dictate that I shift my priorities. I would've undertaken this venture myself, but I do not have the time to do the political maneuvering that running a company entails. I also doubt that the oil corporations will take kindly to being usurped by an eighteen-year-old boy."

Understanding sparked in Sergei's eyes. "I see. So you plan to use my company as a front to advance your own inventions, granting them more legitimacy. And if I should fail, your name will be left untainted—you will be able to resume your operations by finding a new company to support you."

Artemis stared at him impassively. "You're less naïve than you say you are, when it comes to these affairs."

"How much of the profits will you ask for?"

"60 percent, as the invention is mine."

Sergei groaned, kneading his forehead with a fist. "You're a tough man, Mr. Fowl, and very manipulative. I can see why you chose me now. Surely the great champion of alternative energy, Sergei Elios, would not turn down an opportunity to convert the world to solar power…60 percent, you say?"

"Yes." Blunt, concise, and unequivocal.

"I must be delusional to commit corporate suicide so easily." Sergei sighed deeply and rose to his feet, before extending a hand. "You have yourself a deal, Mr. Fowl."

Artemis gave a genuine smile. "High risk equals high return, Mr. Elios, as I'm sure you know well enough. You won't regret this." He accepted the handshake.

Sergei returned the smile, though it appeared more like a pained grimace. "I'll hold you to that, Mr. Fowl. We'll keep in touch."

"Indeed."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~

**Charing Cross, London**

"Juliet, for what reason have you dragged me to this abysmal place?"

"To celebrate, of course! Your business deal came through, so you ought to take the time to relax."

"This is…relaxing?"

The pale-faced boy's discontent was easily brushed aside by his eager companion, as she dragged him through crowds of bustling shoppers. Despite the fact that it was June, the weather appeared rather cold and foreboding. A dreary mist pervaded the streets of London, refusing to be dispelled.

Artemis's mood, which had been heightened by his successful business deal, was rapidly plummeting to the core of the earth. London fog, indeed. The atmosphere here was more morbid than that of Böcklin's infamous painting _The Isle of the Dead_.

Artemis was seriously considering using the mesmer on Juliet to escape his predicament, when a flash of brilliant color caught his eye. _Again?_ He spun around in a surprisingly effective move, knocking Juliet's grip from his arm. He found himself staring at a dingy pub, lettered with the odd title _The Leaky Cauldron_. Artemis ignored the swearing and shoving against his back, noting that the majority of shoppers simply passed the pub by without sparing a single glance. How_ intriguing_.

"Artemis?" Juliet appeared by his side, but fell silent when she recognized the cold, analytic glint in his eyes.

…More intriguing, however, was the veritable tapestry of color that pulsed around the entire pub. Artemis closed his blue eye, allowing his fairy one to observe the phenomena with more clarity. It was an iridescent membrane, like a soap bubble—rainbow streaks danced across its surface in a blinding play of light, a thousand times more vivid than the auras that Artemis had detected around people. Stray shoppers that pressed against the surface of the shield were easily diverted back onto the main road.

Artemis could feel his skin tingling. The neurons were sparking, assimilating his observations, making connections, verifying his hypotheses. He bit back a savagely self-satisfied grin as everything snapped together and he felt the exhilarating rush of _understanding_.

_ Magic_, Artemis thought, before the world exploded into a million shattered beams of multicolored light.

* * *

**A/N 1:** I'm really sorry if I'm boring you with all of these character analyses! In case you're wondering, though, I'm _not_ planning to make this a Juliet/Artemis fiction. Not only am I unspeakably bad at writing romance (…actually, I've never attempted…), but I only started this chapter from Juliet's perspective because I thought it'd be fun to explore.

**A/N 2: **Le Gavroche is an actual restaurant in London. No, I have never been there before. Nor had I heard of it until I looked it up on Google around an hour ago. :)

**A/N 3: **Erm…sorry about all these author's notes. But regarding solar cells, remember that I am basing this story in 2002. Back then, I think the best solar cells had somewhere around 5% efficiency. Now, of course, engineers have surpassed even 30%...but pretend the year is 2002, alright? Also, I completely BS-ed an explanation of how Artemis's solar cell works. Please disregard it.

**A/N 4:** Do not be deterred by the presence of an OC! I thought I might as well mention Artemis's whole solar-cell-venture, so I needed to come up with another character, namely Sergei...anyways, Sergei Elios may or may not be important in later chapters, I haven't decided yet.

**A/N 5:** if you're interested in knowing how this story is progressing, please check my author's page! I will post periodic updates about my schedule/how busy I am, so you have a general idea of when the next chapter will be coming.


	3. Aneurysms, Grudges, and Impending Mayhem

**Disclaimer:** I don't own either HP or AF.

**A/N:** Thank you so much everyone for all of the encouraging recognition (favs, alerts, reviews)! I would name you all explicitly, but I think you know who you are, and you'd probably like me to get to the story right about now…anyways, thank you! You're as much a part of this as I am!

* * *

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
**Chapter 2: **Aneurysms, Grudges, and Impending Mayhem  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

**Haven City, Police Plaza**

In Holly's ever-so-humble opinion, Monday mornings should have entailed nothing more than a thorough soaking in a steaming mudbath. _Heated straight from the core of the earth_, thought Holly dreamily, as she closed her eyes momentarily and watched fantasy-Holly descending into a nirvana of mud, bubbles, and warmth.

A bruising slam against her shoulder; a vulgar string of curses that involved goblin piss and someone's mother. Holly clenched her teeth and shut her eyes even tighter, trying to fight off the impending aneurysm. Even as she took a deep breath, a repellent stink, no doubt the work of a dwarf, permeated through the air and prompted a sea of groans from the crowd. Holly's nose twitched. _Frond. Frond. Frond._

"Ehhh, yeh wouldn't be Cap'n Short, would 'ya? That crazy LEP girly? The gal with all them demons?"

_What have I ever done to deserve this?_ Holly found herself inordinately jealous of fantasy-Holly, who continued to lounge, undisturbed, in the recesses of her imagination. She could almost detect a smug grin on her image's face. _Envious of my own self-delusions. I must be one step away from being shipped to the Argon Clinic._

"Girly! I'm talkin' to 'ya!"

Holly's eyes snapped open, blazing, and she rounded on the unfortunate gnome.

"_What?_" she snarled, her hand straying dangerously close to her Neutrino.

The gnome flinched, but with a surprising display of temerity (or stupidity?), chose to press on.

"I said, yeh wouldn't be Cap'n Short, would 'ya?"

"No."

The gnome was taken aback. "Bu', bu', yeh look just like her! I swear!"

"I have no idea whatever gave you that unfortunate notion, _sir._" Holly spied a gap in the throng. "I must be going now. _Good day._"

She maneuvered herself swiftly out of the crowd, leaving the gnome scratching his head in utter confusion. _Curse_ all the media hype over the incident with the demons! It had been like this, _every single day_, ever since her return from Hybras five months prior. Holly was rapidly beginning to sympathize with her late commander's infamous irritability and trademark flush.

_Commander Root._ It had been some time since his death, but Holly still couldn't suppress the tinge of guilt that his name summoned. Regardless of how many times Trouble and Foaly had reassured her of her innocence, she could not help but think that she had ultimately caused her commander's death. _Regrets will change nothing_, Holly reminded herself. The real Julius Root would've instantly rebuked her for such self-indulgent brooding. She smiled fondly in remembrance.

What she _really_ wanted to do, though it was hardly legal, was to throttle Opal Kobai with her own bare hands. _Opal._ Howler's Peak was hardly good enough for her. Holly itched at the thought of the pixie reclining lazily in her cell, giving nothing but that _insufferably_ arrogant smirk. If Holly had her way, Koboi would've been pitched down a chute long ago and fried to a crisp by the earth's flares. Now _that_ was justice. Holly grinned savagely.

+o+o+o+

By the time Holly had reached Foaly's communications booth, a noticeably large space had cleared around her. She might have overdone the murderous aura, Holly admitted absently.

Foaly buzzed her into the booth. "You haven't happened to have contracted a contagious case of Gillian Warts recently?" he asked by way of greeting. "Or did you get N°1 to conjure up some other kind of invisible, impenetrable barrier around you?"

"Opal."

"Ah." Apparently that had been explanation enough. "You know Holly, it's really not healthy to…"

"Foaly. Drop it."

"Alright, I'm just telling you, grudges are not a good thing to hold. They tend to get rather bloody and disagreeable."

"_Foaly_..." Holly narrowed her eyes warningly, but relented at the concerned look in his eyes. She sighed and attempted a smile. "Alright, I'm fine now. So, Foaly, what exactly do you have for me that necessitated such an early call? This _emergency _had better be important, otherwise I swear I'm going to embargo your carrot supply…"

Foaly's eyes widened in horror. "There's no need to threaten the carrots, you know. Anyways, it's the usual—"

Holly groaned. "Don't tell me…"

"As feared, the Mudboy seems to have gotten himself into another situation."

_Mudboy_ could only mean one thing, considering that only one human had ever successfully uncovered the existence of the Fairy people. "Artemis."

"Who else?"

"Again? _Again? _It's been only five months since the incident with the demons. What is Artemis up to now? Couldn't he have waited a little longer before he launched his dastardly plans?"

Foaly chortled. "Evil geniuses don't take breaks, Holly, didn't you know that? Anyways, Mudboy hasn't done anything particularly incriminating…"

"…why am I here again?"

"He just happened to disappear off of my satellite trackers. Which normally might not mean much—I would have blamed it on interference from solar flares—but you must remember exactly who it is we're talking about here." Foaly adjusted his tinfoil hat as he spoke. " 'Innocent until proved guilty' does not really apply to this situation."

"More like 'guilty until proved innocent'?"

"Exactly."

The centaur wheeled his modified swivel chair to another monitor, and typed a series of rapid commands into the computer. A three-dimensional hologram of the globe appeared in the center of the booth. Near the top of the globe, in a landmass that Holly identified as England, a red light was blinking.

Foaly couldn't resist. "This is the newest hologram technology that I've developed, which differs from the previous version in that the optics that I use are—"

"Phenomenal, incredible, amazing. I get it. Now will you please enlighten me as to the real reason that I'm here? Before I start embargoing carrots or something."

The centaur sulked, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "philistine", but quickly turned back to the work at hand when he saw Holly's hand twitching towards her holster.

"Zoom and enhance." As Foaly said this, the image was magnified until Holly could see that the red light was centered in London.

"This was where Artemis was last located. Charing Cross, England. I can't think of anything particularly remarkable there that would attract him, although I'll have to do more investigation into it. It could be nothing, as I said earlier, but with all previous experience considered…"

"It's probably something." Holly rolled her eyes in exasperation. "So is the pod ready for me yet? I assume I'll be taking E18 to Stonehenge."

"About that…the magma flares have not been running on schedule this week, so we won't be able to send you to the surface using a pod."

"A shuttle then?"

"All civilian shuttles are in use right now, none of which are heading to Stonehenge."

Holly rubbed her eyes. "Couldn't you apprehend a shuttle for LEP use?"

"I tried, but the Council refused. Said something about lost revenue, and the fact that they didn't want to cause undue panic. Recently, for some odd reason, the public seems to associate the phrase 'LEP emergency' with 'imminent disaster.'"

"It's Artemis's fault," Holly replied immediately.

"Probably."

"Did you tell the Council that impeding our investigation could quite possibly lead to consequences worse than _lost revenue_, considering that it is Artemis Fowl who is involved?"

"Yes, although their general consensus seemed to be that a lost satellite signal was not significant enough to merit such 'drastic actions'."

"Drastic, my foot." Holly snorted. "The Council will be eating their words for sure. Have you considered having N°1 use his sorcery to transport me directly to London?"

"I have, actually. However, it would be too risky. Opening a spacetime tunnel is a task not to be trifled with, even when you're backed by a powerful warlock like N°1. If you were more familiar with the quantum physics behind it, I could explain better—" Foaly glanced at Holly's expression. "Or not. Anyways, all you need to know is that anything could happen, ranging from your getting stranded in an alternate dimension to your getting ripped apart into subatomic particles."

Holly winced. "So, not a good idea then."

"No, not if you value full use of your limbs and organs. I think the best thing to do is to simply contact Artemis with your fairy communicator ring, and see if he answers."

Holly glanced down at her hand, and recalled having left said ring on her bathroom counter. "D'arvit!"

"What?"

"Couldn't you have told me that _before_ I left my flat?"

"...Oh."

+o+o+o+

**Diagon Alley, London**

Nymphadora Tonks was having a very bad day.

The very least of her troubles being the fact that her parents had chosen to saddle her with the ungainly name "Nymphadora." _Honestly_. Then there was the other fact that a Certain Foolish Werewolf had been avoiding her affections as of late, even though she was _absolutely sure_ that he returned them. Then there was the _other _fact that five minutes prior, she had been enjoying a warm breakfast of toast and marmalade at the Burrow. That illusion had been shattered when Kingsley had popped into the fireplace, warning of an impending Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley. Worst of all, however, was the fact that there was currently a weight hanging off of her arm that should _Most. Certainly. Not. Be. There._

Tonks squeezed her eyes together as tightly as she could without popping any vital blood vessels. In the distance, she could hear a cacophony of shrieks and bangs that signified nothing other than death and destruction. She growled, the accumulated exasperation threatening to erupt into a full-fledged banshee scream. If she weren't so _damn_ scared of You-Know-Who, she would gladly throttle his spindly white neck until every single vertebrae snapped.

Tonks felt her appearance strain and shift to match her escalating sentiment. The mousy brown hair and amber eyes shifted into a flat shade of midnight black. Her eyebrows narrowed and lengthened and angled themselves sharply. _Like Snape. Perfect to make my point clear._

She snapped her eyes open and glared into wide green. "Harry James Potter. What. Are. You. Doing. _Here?_"

* * *

**A/N:** Oops. I lied. I said the action was going to start in this chapter…but I got kind of stuck, plot-wise. I realized that I still had to bring more characters into the story; in addition, I didn't want to force out any more writing because it was starting to sound a bit stilted and unnatural. If it sounds like I'm stalling, I am. But the plot is ever-so-slowly starting to coalesce in my mind. Sorry, I'll try to make it up to you guys in the coming chapters!


	4. Convergence

**Disclaimer:** I don't own either HP or AF.

**A/N:** Sorry, sorry, sorry for the four-month delay! I found myself caught in a rut of laziness—discovering, in the process, that laziness is a positive feedback system: the less you do something, the less you want to do it. So, my apologies for leaving you guys hanging like that. Also, be prepared for some Harry-angst. (remember, this is post Order of the Phoenix!)

* * *

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
**Chapter 3: Convergence  
**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

* * *

**Diagon Alley, London**

The blood pulsed thickly in his ears, and Harry wondered what reality was. The shrieks and bangs of wandfire had long since faded away into a tinny afterthought, and his head throbbed to the inexorable beat of some great beast. It smelled of rust and suffering and chaos. Harry wondered what he was doing there, and fought the irreverent urge to laugh. Everything was just so _futile_.

_What is wrong with me? _

Though he clamped his eyes shut to ward off the images, a similar scene rose unbidden to Harry's mind._ The shrieks and bangs of wandfire. The graceful profile curving back under a stone arch, falling down, down, down. A careless laugh, the final irony coming from a man upon which despair had feasted for 13 years..._ Harry was well-accustomed to this shattered memory—its disjointed shards managed to pierce his heart every single day, with unfailing accuracy. _Sirius. Why? …Was it me?_

_I'm so sorry._

The dam broke. Guilt rushed in and flooded through Harry's veins. It was the only balm for the stabbing pain, and it came accompanied with a roiling surge of anger. Anger at Dumbledore, anger at himself, anger at Voldemort, anger at Bellatrix. Anger at every idiotic person who had ever fought and killed. Anger at the human race for its foolishness and vanity.

A chilling flame prickled from the base of his spine to his scalp. _Bellatrix_. It was irrational, Harry knew, to focus his anger on solely one person. The scene at the Deparment of Mysteries had involved many actors, and Harry himself had been one of its orchestrators, however unwillingly. But it had been so easy, in those early weeks of despair, to funnel the untamed fury at a certain individual. When Kingsley had called about the Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley, Harry had moved swiftly. As if in a dream, he had leapt forward and snatched Tonks's cloak, ignoring Ron and Hermione's reprimanding cries of "Harry!"

There was no need—Tonks had already rebuked him, and rather strongly at that. Until then, Harry had never known the good-natured Metamorphmagus to possess such intensity. She had turned to him in a secluded alley, eyes blazing with poorly concealed anger.

**…**

_"Harry! You…you…you bloody idiot!"_

_Well, there was little that could be said in response to that. Harry kept his mouth shut._

_"Don't just stand there mute, say something!" Tonks whirled away from him, pacing in restless agitation, before whipping around again. She raised her hands, almost imploringly, before wringing them and flexing the fingers into frustrated claws. _

_"What on earth could have possessed you to do something so…blatantly idiotic? Have you gleaned _anything_ from the auror patrols, the secrecy, the _Daily Prophet_? Didn't you learn _anything_ at the Ministry? We risk our lives for you Harry, without question, but do you appreciate it at all?" Tonks choked back something like a sob. "Do you want Mad-eye to die for you next? Kingsley? Remus?"_

_Harry's eyes widened in mingled guilt and accusation. He was aware of his mouth opening, but he had no idea of what to say. There was no proper response, when one was confronted with truth._

_Tonks's eyes were black and unsympathetic._

_"Do you have your Invisibility Cloak with you?"_

_"…in my pocket."_

_"Good. Put it on, and _do not take it off_. I want you to go hide somewhere, away from this commotion. When this is all over, meet me in front of Flourish and Blotts. This is not a game. There are life-and-death repercussions if you do not obey. Understand?"_

_Harry nodded, still voiceless._

_"I will also put a temporary tracking charm on you to ensure that I can find you later. You will need to take out your wand because this charm requires the consent of both the caster and the receiver."_

_Harry pulled out his wand, and touched its tip to that of Tonk's wand. She muttered an incantation, which Harry repeated as instructed. _

_"Good, we're done here. And remember what I said."_

_A thought struck Harry. "Couldn't a Death Eater Imperio someone into consenting to this tracking charm?"_

_Tonks glanced at Harry. Was that an approving look? Harry couldn't tell. "No, for two reasons. First of all, this charm was developed by Dumbledore and is solely known by Order members. Also, although we still do not have spells to detect if an Imperius is being cast specifically, this spell can do a general check for other magical influences. Unfortunately this includes things like Felix Felicis as well as Imperius curses and Polyjuice Potions, but it's always better to be a hundred percent certain."_

_Like a Muggle drug test, Harry thought in surprise. _

_Tonks turned to leave, but hesitated for a moment. "Sirius was a good man. Rest assured, Harry, Bellatrix is living on borrowed time now. None of us would hesitate to oblige her with a curse and an unmarked grave." _

_Harry nodded again. But by the time the lump in his throat had subsided enough to say a weak "Thanks", Tonks had already swept away, into the turmoil._

**…**

Harry slumped down against the wall. The stone was cold and unyielding at his back. _Bellatrix_. It was a cursed name, igniting a tempest of loathing in all those that heard it. The reaction was instinctive—it was if there was a secret sense, beyond the traditional five, that could detect evil.

Suddenly Harry wanted to mutilate something. A great darkness coiled in his belly like a serpent, rising upward as its burning venom spread through his veins. The desire to destroy something intensified. He wanted to tear up forests by their roots and gouge the earth with hands alone. The anger blazed, but it was cold and righteous in its intensity. Harry felt all-powerful.

And then the darkness collapsed into itself, and a weighty despair washed over him once more. _It was her cousin, for God's sake! Didn't that mean anything? Anything to that black heart? Anything at all? They were family and what he wouldn't do for family and why was the world so black why was there evil he'd never asked for it to be like this at all and if there were prophecies why wasn't there justice he only wanted to live so why Sirius why his parents why him why why why_

In the end, nothing had changed. His nerves felt as raw and burnt out as they did the night Sirius died.

~o~o~o~

**Charing Cross, London**

Artemis did not have a very good first impression of this civilization of magic-wielding humans. It did these wizards no favors that during their first encounter, Artemis was forced to run for his life rather than allowed to observe things discreetly. He rather disliked having to run for his life—first, because Artemis's brain was most effective when it was contained within a functioning body (and not when splattered on the asphalt); second, because physical activity was anathema.

There was no room for subtlety in the midst of this battlefield. Only minutes earlier, just as Artemis had observed the colorful membrane surrounding _The Leaky Cauldron_, it had pulsed violently and the entire shopfront had exploded outward. With the flying shrapnel came the faint outlines of a dozen figures, each garbed in what appeared to be some kind of dark robe. Artemis noted that they too possessed "auras", but the colors were muted and entangled with a sickly black.

A collective silence—the type of which almost always follows an unexpected calamity—had lasted about five seconds. It quickly disintegrated when it became clear that the dark figures were not benevolent, and were instead shooting out strange laser-like beams with the intent to destroy.

Now, the symphony of screams drowned out even one's thoughts, and visibility was poor because of settling debris. Confusion reigned supreme. As an ominous green light sizzled past, inches away from his cerebrum, Artemis determined that the best course of action was to flee.

Only to discover that he was already in the process of fleeing—Juliet's insistent tug had transformed into a death grip on his wrist, and she was dragging him determinedly away from the chaos. As they hurried away, they passed by a baby on the sidewalk. It seemed oblivious, and gurgled happily at the flashing play of colors around its stroller. The mother was slumped across the pavement.

"Artemis…" Juliet ground out. "Would you mind helping me out here? I don't think anyone wants to see what would happen if Butler's Principal was killed."

Artemis stepped off of the pedestal of objective observation. "I am following you now," he pointed out, and wondered briefly about the fate of the baby—a baby who even now continued to enjoy the false security of its stroller. _How fickle Life is. _

Fickle indeed.

Suddenly, a black figure materialized out of the haze ahead. Despite the fact that the figure was masked (and what a hackneyed concept, thought Artemis with scorn, a _skull mask_ of all things), Artemis had the feeling that the man was grinning.

An haughty voice filtered through the mask. "And what have we here? A pair of fresh-faced Muggle scum? How _delightful_."

Artemis thought it best not to respond, but his pride was severely rankled. Beneath the surface, it snapped and gnashed its teeth like a caged dog.

But never let it be said that a Fowl had anything but complete control over his emotions. Rash action was for the foolish. Artemis kept silent, and instead took the time to thoroughly observe the masked figure. As he had learned from Butler (and from the incident with Jon Spiro), every detail about an opponent could prove to be advantageous in the future. Small differences could yield large profits—a well-known financial principle, and Artemis was certainly no stranger to arbitrage.

The man's aura must have once been violet. Now, however, it was threaded with black rivulets that seemed almost sentient in the way they moved. The flow appeared to concentrate around a node on the man's left forearm. _Most curious_. Artemis filed away this observation for later use.

With impeccably bad timing (at least, from Artemis's perspective), reality interceded once more. It took the form of a Latin exclamation and an indigo flash that sped towards him with alarming rapidity.

"ARTEMIS!"

The world tilted as Artemis felt himself bodily shoved aside. He slammed against a brick wall and watched with alarm as Juliet buckled and collapsed. There was a horrible cracking sound. _D'ARVIT!_ _Her ribs?_ Juliet convulsed and hacked out a dark liquid, confirming Artemis's guess. _A lung puncture as well._

"Juliet!" Artemis stood frozen. There was a second splattering sound as more blood hit the pavement. Juliet rolled her eyes back towards Artemis, and glared at him balefully. She was still conscious despite the pain, most likely as a result of Madame Ko's intensive training. Juliet's chest had caved in somewhat (just how many ribs had the spell broken, wondered Artemis), and it shook as she tried to inhale enough air to speak.

Juliet managed to wheeze out her words. "Run, you idiot!"

And perhaps he would have, another day. Artemis certainly would have heeded Juliet's advice five years ago—back then, he would have concluded that the life of a genius was too valuable to risk (true genius only appeared every few centuries), and that the Butlers' role as bodyguards logically constituted a certain risk of death on their part.

But Artemis had already killed and resurrected one Butler, and he had sworn not to create a similar scenario, especially involving the younger sister of his bodyguard-mentor. And this time, Artemis had a secret ace.

He lunged forward to Juliet's side, shielding her from the sight of the masked figure. Artemis placed his palm against Juliet's collapsed chest. _Heal_, he thought, and the blue sparks danced forth.

~o~o~o~

**Diagon Alley, London**

_Shit_. There were better ways of phrasing the situation, but Tonks literally did not give a _shit _about eloquence right now. She called up her Patronus hurriedly, but spared an affectionate smile for the glowing werewolf when it appeared.

"Message for the Order," she intoned. "The Death Eaters have broken through the barrier and are attacking Muggle London." A pause. "There are no apparent motives for the attack, other than causing fear and pandemonium. However, the Aurors will attempt to capture a Death Eater for interrogation. Use Dumbledore's discretion when sending backup; we may need some help setting up wards to isolate the situation from the rest of the Muggle world."

"Go," she whispered to the Patronus, and the luminous beast disappeared into the fog. _Death Eaters_. "Bastards, every one of them." Tonks gave a deep sigh, and prepared herself to enter Muggle London.

~o~o~o~

The screams were distant now, as if coming from a different world. And really, they were, though Harry. He felt a deep wash of pity for the nameless Muggles. _They're caught up in a war that they can't even perceive. A war that can change everything—and they have absolutely no idea what is going on_. Was it better, Harry wondered, to be so oblivious? Or to know that one's fate was mapped out until the very end?

And then he heard it. A faint cry that managed to pierce through the rest of the madness.

"Daddy! No!"

A father lost. A life changed. In the end, did it matter whose father was whose?

Harry shook himself from his musings, and gathered his Invisibility Cloak about him as he rose. _Hero complex, moral fiber, thick-headedness, whatever they wanted to call it_… The world was an ugly place. Was it so wrong that he wanted to change it?

"Sorry, Tonks," he whispered. He hurried towards the gaping hole of _The Leaky Cauldron_.

~o~o~o~

**Charing Cross, London**

The masked man laughed. "Not only Muggle trash, but also a weakling! Aren't you ashamed of yourself, boy? Saved by a girl!"

The blue sparks continued to flow from Artemis's fingertips. The masked man was oblivious to this phenomena, for Artemis had oriented Juliet away from his sight. He hoped that he would have enough magic left for a mesmer.

"Really, it's a wonder that your kind has managed to populate so much of the world." A hiss of disgust. "Breeding like sewer rats!"

Artemis's glacier-like composure cracked, and he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "And one would almost think that you thought yourself superior to us. A grown man…with an apparent fetish for Halloween costumes. Are all _magicians_ this deprived? Oh, but you are truly the paragon of humanity! The pride of the earth! The pinnacle of backwards civilization!"

Artemis found himself spun around by an invisible force. The man stalked forward several paces, and behind the slits of the mask, his eyes narrowed.

_Now! _Artemis opened his mouth to invoke the mesmer—

"Crucio!"

_Cruciare. _Latin for "to torture." The thought floated disjointedly through Artemis's mind, right as the sickly red light struck his chest and his nerves were set aflame.

~o~o~o~

Odd, thought Antonin Dolohov. Had the Muggle whelp's eyes glowed blue for an instant?

~o~o~o~

Tonks sent another Stunner towards the Death Eaters, her thoughts whirring in calculation. _We're going to need a mass Obliviate for this…I hope the Ministry can come up with a suitably reasonable explanation. Terrorists? Gas explosion, perhaps? The memory loss can be blamed on the fumes…_ She ducked a Killing Curse. _Son of a—! That was close. Harry will be disappointed to know that Bellatrix is not here today_.

Around her, other Aurors had been dispatched to cast wards around the immediate vicinity. Nearby Muggles would hear the screams and see the smoke, but they could not approach lest they be overcome with irrational, magically-induced fear. Scrimgeour, the new Minister of Magic, had already contacted the Muggle Prime Minister. The Prime Minister, in turn, had directed the London police chiefs to stall any investigations.

_We're fighting an invisible war. _The irony, Tonks realized, was that keeping the war invisible was just as difficult as fighting in it.

~o~o~o~

_hydrogen helium lithium beryllium boron carbon nitrogen oxygen fluorine neon sodium magnesium aluminum silicon phosphorous..._

Artemis's world pulsed red against closed lids.

~o~o~o~

Harry darted, invisible, among the chaos. His Seeker instinct had awakened, and he felt alive for the first time in weeks. Every nerve thrummed like a live wire of electricity. It was exhilarating.

"Stupefy!"

~o~o~o~

Out of the corner of her eye, Tonks saw a red beam emerge and strike the Death Eater in front of her. She whipped around to give a nod of thanks, but there was no one there. Odd, she thought, before snarling in realization. _Harry!_

~o~o~o~

_ …rhodium palladium silver cadmium indium tin antimony tellurium iodine xenon cesium barium lanthanum cerium…_

A warm breath brushed Artemis's ear, but he was too overwhelmed to shudder with disgust.

"Have you cracked yet, Muggle?"

The words managed to pierce through the haze of pain. A vague, distant part of Artemis knew exactly what the man was trying to do, and was flooded with fear. What was he without his mind? He would be nobody. Nothing. _Nothing. Nothing._

_stop it…mercury thallium lead bismuth…help me…polonium astatine radon…it hurts…francium radium actinium…help me…thorium protactinium…help me…uranium…help me help me HELP ME!_

Blue sparks erupted and spread across Artemis's vision.

~o~o~o~

Harry surveyed the street for any remaining Death Eaters. Most had Disapparated, dragging their Stunned comrades with them. Victims of the Killing Curse were sprawled about the scene. A few were Aurors. Most were Muggles.

On the sidewalk across the street, a scuffle caught his attention. A remaining Death Eater, who was evidently enjoying himself too much to leave, was looking down upon a writhing figure. The victim was a Muggle boy that seemed to be around Harry's age. _The Cruciatus curse? But the boy isn't screaming at all!_

~o~o~o~

A sea of calming blue washed the pain away, and Artemis's consciousness crept out of the corner into which it had been forced. He was aware that his limbs were still twitching convulsively (like the frog leg in Galvani's electric shock experiment, thought Artemis, fighting the strange urge to laugh), but it was a rather detached awareness. There was nothing he could do about the twitching, no matter how undignified it was. It seemed that it was a natural physiological reaction to the pain of the "Crucio" curse.

However, though Artemis's physical body was still reacting to the pain, his mind was safe—guarded behind a shield of pulsing blue magic that he had instinctively conjured himself. Finally, thought Artemis with a mental snort, he was free to observe and think as he wished, without any disruptions. He just had to wait for the cessation of that _infuriating _"Crucio" spell.

There was a faint cry. "Stupefy!"

Latin again. _To stun?_ Artemis guessed. _Interesting. _It seemed as if this civilization's magic had originated during the era of the Romans. He wondered if there were any Greek-based spells. And what about magical humans in non-European countries—what kinds of spells did they use?

The twitching had ceased. Artemis opened his eyes to find the masked figure slumped across the pavement, unconscious. _It appears that I was right_. _Stunned_. Artemis sat up, suddenly aware of the aching in his joints, and glanced around to find his knight in shining armor. Or rather, Dame in shining armor.

A young woman (_Witch?_ wondered Artemis. He made a resolution to look up the official nomenclature for this magical society) was kneeling at Juliet's side, inspecting her ribs.

"That wasn't as bad as I expected from an _Ossafract_ spell," she murmured in surprise. "She might still need the treatment of some Healers at St. Mungo's, however."

The witch looked up, making accidental eye contact with Artemis in the process. Her aura, a vivid magenta shade, was flickering with agitation. "Merlin, he's still conscious? I thought with the Cruciatus…nevermind. Harry, we're going to have to Obliviate him after this."

Artemis's eyes widened slightly. _Obliviate?_ Was that their way of nullifying him as a potential threat? And who was the Harry that the woman was talking to? His eyes darted about the scene.

_There_. To the right of the witch was a vaguely human-shaped outline. It was a shade of muted gold. _Another aura?_ _Perhaps even another magic user?_ It wouldn't be too much of an extrapolation to assume that these "wizards" were also capable of invisibility, thought Artemis. The tawny figure seemed to shift uncomfortably, and Artemis let his eyes continue to roll past. He postulated that the wizards did not share his ability to see "magic"—otherwise they would have realized that their spells for invisibility were rather ineffective. With this knowledge, Artemis thought it best not to waste the secrecy of his ability, but instead to withhold it for later use.

"This is the best I can do for now, until we can find a professional Healer." The witch rose with a sigh, and turned to face Artemis. She clutched a stick in her right hand. …A magic wand? How utterly stereotypical, thought Artemis.

"Don't worry, this won't hurt at all."

As if anyone would believe such a statement. Not even Beckett would be so gullible. Should he use the mesmer? Or was it too early to waste his ace? Artemis did not think that this would be his last encounter with this magical civilization.

"Obliviate!"

A pale grey light flew towards Artemis. _D'arvit_. I feel like this is a civil rights violation, he thought with a twinge of irony. Not that he had ever been one to respect the civil rights himself.

The spell inevitably collided.

Artemis's vision turned blue for a second. _My mental shield_. It pulsed fiercely, fighting against the greyish streaks that fought to cloud Artemis's mind. Artemis knew that it was too late, however. There was a draining sensation all throughout his body, as if the very core of his being had been emptied. _I've expended too much magic today_. The blueness struggled, but the gray fibers wound themselves into the cracks and began to sprout like some virulent fungi.

Distantly, Artemis heard the witch reprimand the invisible figure. "Harry James Potter, what on _Earth_ were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?"

A name, then. Artemis latched on this piece of flotsam like a drowning man at sea, but it was too late. The blue armor evaporated, and he was swept away into the grayness of oblivion.

~o~o~o~

Had he been thinking at all?

"I don't know." An honest answer.

Tonks stared at Harry with an incredulous look on her face, and Harry was forced to clarify. "There were people dying and I couldn't—I couldn't just _stand _there! They could've been someone's father or mother or sister or, or…or someone's Sirius! And they didn't really even know what was happening because they were Muggles. So I _had_ to help them, you see? It just wouldn't be fair otherwise!"

Harry stared imploringly at Tonks, willing her to understand the emotions he felt. She must've, for her gaze softened slightly. "I think I understand, Harry. But you must realize that in reality, you are not just Harry. You are Harry Potter, the once savior of the Wizarding World."

He snorted, but Tonks ignored it. "You will have to shoulder the burden of everyone's hopes and expectations, and you will have to accept that as such, we value your life more than any other. We cannot let the hope die, Harry, or people will lose their will to fight! That is exactly what You-Know-Who wants—not just revenge for your conquest of him 15 years ago, but also the destruction of hope!"

"And yet, considering that I am the "Boy Who Lived", quite a few people refused to believe me when I told of Voldemort's return after the Triwizard Tournament."

Tonks shuddered slightly at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, but she kept her composure. "And would you value their lives any less because of that?"

Harry fell silent in contemplation.

In the distance, a team of aurors raised their wands simultaneously. The ground writhed like a great snake, and exploded upwards, showering a mixture of earth and cement. The aurors then began siphoning something into their wands, before finally exclaiming "Incendio!" above the wreck.

"_Bloody hell!_ What on earth are they doing?" cried Harry in indignation.

Tonks sighed and whispered, "Casualties of an invisible war…"

"Err…what?"

She cleared her throat. "The Muggle Prime Minister has been instructed to blame this incident on a gas explosion. We need evidence for the public. And here is the explosion."

"But that's…" Harry was speechless. The aurors began arranging the bodies haphazardly around the flames.

"It's all standard procedure. This is why Wizarding disasters that happen in the Muggle World are so much more of a hassle to deal with. The Muggles who died due to an Avada Kedavra curse will have to have glamours cast on them, to make them look as if they have real wounds. The surviving ones will be taken care of with an Obliviating team…I've also been told that there is a network of Ministry officials interspersed throughout the Muggle government, who have the responsibility of fudging medical records and whatnot."

Harry was shocked into silence. The efficiency of the entire affair was rather horrifying. It made it seem as if the whole tragedy was a farce, and robbed the victims of dignity in their deaths.

How could Fate have ever decreed that this was to be a war between Voldemort and Harry alone? Who was Harry Potter in the face of all these nameless dead? And yet…they weren't really nameless, were they? For tonight, a select few Muggle households would be torn apart with grief—would remember this day as the worst day of their lives.

Who was Harry Potter? Was it only accident of birth that made things the way they were? Harry felt soul-sick. Now, more than ever, he felt as if he had been born into the wrong world, the wrong reality—but surely, somewhere out there, wasn't there a time and a place where he could be simply Harry?

Tonks laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry, but we have to leave." At that moment, Harry could almost imagine that her apology was for the very existence of the world.

As London blurred and his insides were squeezed into the rubber tunnel of Apparation, Harry realized that his eyes were wet.

~o~o~o~

23 lives too late, the sirens of police cars started up in the distance.

* * *

**A/N 1: **Citing the periodic table by memory is Artemis's coping mechanism for the pain.

**A/N 2: **Does Tonks seem too serious? Is she verging on OOC? She must be at least marginally strategic to be an Auror, however, and they _are_ in the middle of a war…

**A/N 3:** Why doesn't Artemis react emotionally to the Cruciatus? Repression and shame—did he really want to face the fact that he screamed for help? Oh, the horror of asking for help when one is in pain! That's Artemis for you.

**A/N 4:** _Ossafract_ curse? I just combined _ossa _(Latin for bone) and _fract_ (Latin for break).

**A/N 5:** I guess Harry definitely does not "have the emotional capacity of a teaspoon." :) Anyways, did my writing style change? It seems rather wordy (and occasionally awkward sounding on the tongue)…I'm not quite sure that I like it…well, let me know what you think!

***Thank you for being such amazing, patient readers!


End file.
